The Barnum Effect

Fallibility of memory, the curse of middle age, is upon me. A thought will occur to me, causing me to rise and walk into another room to get something, but by the time I reach my destination my mind is blank. Now what was it I came here to do? I’ll look vaguely around until my eye happens on some chore waiting to be done, which I assume is what I came to do. Leaving the room, I look back, with that nagging feeling of something forgotten. The moment I sit back down, it hits me, the memory of what I’d intended to collect. So I rise again, sometimes with the same result. On the bright side, it gets the chores done, and since there usually is a flight of stairs to traverse I get some exercise too. When we say we can’t remember, we really mean we can’t recall. The memory is undoubtedly resting comfortably somewhere deep within our noodle, barring brain injury and neurological issues. I have trouble with the passwords I need to remember to access systems at work. Often they are so fiendi...

The other day a popup dialog appeared asking if I'd like to upgrade to Firefox 4, to which I blithely agreed. Woe is me. In Firefox 4 the buttons have been moved around and the address bar has been incorporated into each tab. Trivial stuff, but I'm becoming more adverse to change for the sake of change as my brain fossilizes into middle age. When I discovered the option to move the address bar back to its proper position I resolved to stick with version 4. After the next reboot my Firefox woes began in earnest. Each time I tried to navigate to a new page, open a new tab, or even refesh the page I was on, Firefox 4 hung in a not responding state. The browser would eventually spring back to life, but the net effect was much the same as if I'd reduced my connection speed to 2400 baud, placing Firefox 4 in the chocolate teapot category of browsers. Googling 'I hate Firefox 4', 'Firefox 4 sucks' and other such blunt phrases I discovered I was not alone in...

Recently a wedding and a funeral have conspired to keep the AV referendum at the bottom of the news agenda, but it deserves more attention. The First Past The Post (FPTP) system has allowed our democracy to flounder in a evolutionary eddy. With FPTP there is no incentive for cooperation or constructive debate. Instead we are poorly served by the "Oh yes we will!" and "Oh no you won't!" pantomime politics we so commonly see in our House of Commons today. AV would be a great leap forward in evolutionary terms. Parliamentary candidates would have to work much harder to be returned as an MP for their constituency, requiring more than 50% of the vote, rather than a simple majority. Party politics would focus more positively on the policy similarities with their rivals in order to garner secondary votes. Coalition governments would be more likely, but this would foster a more adult and collaborative approach to government. There is a fear that AV would lead to a...

Everywhere we go we leave electronic traces. If we walk in built-up areas we're captured on CCTV. If we drive we're caught on the ANPR system. If we carry a mobile phone we leave a trail in the logs of the cell towers. When we browse the internet we leave behind details of our IP address, ISP and city (see the Feedjit live traffic feed on this blog.) Use a cashpoint, credit or debit card and the time and location are recorded. We're ok about this because we're comfy in our democracy. We have civil liberties, and the expectation of privacy. If someone has broken the law, then we're happy for the relevant authorities to order companies to release their data on the culprits. Since we're law abiding citizens we have nothing to hide, and hence nothing to fear. Some freely choose to share itineraries and personal information on the internet, yet it is disturbing to be unwittingly "outed" by technology. Take a photo with your smart phone and post it on...

Occasionally I'm overwhelmed with the urge to have a really good stretch, tensing my muscles until they tremble, tipping my head back and unleashing a full on yawn. Lately this is followed by a faint spell - the world goes distant, my vision fades, and everything gets a bit woozy. After a few breaths the world re-intrudes, and normality resumes. It hasn't concerned me, but after a particularly strong episode today my curiosity was peaked, and I typed 'stretch yawn faint' into Google (hallowed be thy results, for thine is the engine, the spider and the crawler) to see what cropped up. It turns out the combo of stretching and tipping the head back starves the brain of oxygen. The stretch lengthens the blood vessels causing a blood pressure drop, whilst it also creates demand for oxygen in the tensing muscles, and finally the head tip constricts an artery in the neck which cuts off the blood to the brain. I'm not sure how common it is in absolute terms, but the f...

Whilst passing through St Pancras on my way to Kings Cross I noticed that a "London 2012 Shop" has opened with a sign at the entrance stating "We are proud to accept only Visa." What about notes and coins? Surely it is against the law to reject legal tender? I decided I would challenge the till troll, but before I had chance I saw an American gentleman paying with a Visa card and cash. While they do accept cash in the store, online they cannot, making ticket and merchandising purchases inaccessible for people who are not customers of Visa. I suspect I will not the only one to be incensed by the idea of a payment monopoly for what is billed as an inclusive sporting event. I do have a Visa card, but this has left such a foul taste in the mouth that I'm considering switching to a less obnoxious credit card provider. Mooching round the store in a half-hearted attempt at browsing I was un-tempted by the vast variety of t-shirts and the like carrying the naff 20...

In the red corner we have the Union movement, an old bruiser whose glory days are decades in the past, needing a big win to stave off extinction. The unions come from the cage fighting school of boxing. No rules and the last man standing wins. In the blue corner we have the Conservative government, using the dire economic situation to green light all the swingeing cuts to public services they've ever dreamt of. The government prefers to play by the Queensbury rules of boxing. As far as the authorities were concerned Arthur Scargill rather ruined the sport when he just didn't have the decency to know when to stay down, and changed the law to cramp the style of any future Scargill wannabes. The days of general strikes and mass pickets may be legally curtailed, but the unions are beginning to realise they can pick strike dates that, just by chance, coincide with action by their sister organisations in other industries. Socialist politics are typically republican in outlook,...

The doorbell just rang, which is unusual as I don't generally have casual callers at this time in the evening, so I raced down the stairs to answer the door. When I opened it I was faced with a young woman and a girl in Woodland Trust tabards. They both waved their arms and chimed "Hello!" immediately followed with the woman chirping "Aw, don't you look cute with your hair in a little bob!" "Would you mind not patronising me on my own doorstep and tell me why you're calling?" I responded. You can tell I wasn't best pleased. I'm never happy to be called to the door by chuggers , but I'm damned if I'll be insulted by cold callers. It might have been a suitable greeting if a toddler had opened the door, but it's just a teeny weeny bit inappropriate for anyone over the age of five. She seemed non-plussed by my directness, and launched into the usual chugger routine of asking questions that demand a "yes" response, ...

Astronomy was scuppered by meteorology today as clouds obscured last night's Quadrantid meteor shower and this morning's partial solar eclipse. To add insult to injury I didn't feel the 3.6 magnitude earthquake which hit Yorkshire yesterday. We've had an uncanny number of portents and omens in the last month. In addition to meteors, solar eclipse and earthquake, we had an eclipse of the moon on the winter solstice which has not occurred in nigh on 500 years. On New Years Eve 3000 blackbirds fell dead from the sky in Arkansas, while 125 miles away 100,000 drum fish washed up dead. The end of days? Today we're intellectually curious about these events, but in less enlightened days we would have been disturbed, fearful even, and looking around for a suitable sacrifice to appease the obviously angry Gods. I might be hard pressed to pick just one person if someone had to be ritually slayed. We have so many figures we love to hate who would do nicely. Polit...

It has been a very trying afternoon, being prodded, poked, and scanned by the medical community. My appointments were scattered at various addresses around Harley Street. I lived in Marylebone for several years, so visits there are always tinged with a slew of memories - some good, some not so bright. I'm released from diagnostic purgatory at 5pm, and a little wound up I decide to walk and wend my way back to Cannon Street. I head down Marylebone Lane, taking a wander around Daunts the Bookshop. Here the books the store chooses to stock are picked entirely by their covers - and truthfully each is an artfully crafted design statement. Books for the fashion conscious, although who knows if they’re necessarily a good read? On to St. Christopher’s Place, a little alley full of boutiques. Overhead the Christmas lights create an illuminated ceiling. Every shop front is awash with garish Christmas decorations temptingly arranged around whatever goods the store is selling. Look, say th...

I was woken at 4am by the radiator, whistling like a kettle. Despite being on the frost setting the radiator was red hot. No amount of twiddling the dial would get it to shut up or shut off. The heat was stifling so I opened the blind and window to let in some cool air. Starlight flooded in along with the draft of cold air. The sky was incredibly clear, a myriad of stars were visible, uncommon in light polluted London. Staring down at me was the constellation of Orion. I learnt to read at a young age due to my mum’s efforts with flash cards. She was an avid reader, and when relaxing could often be found deep a book. She would take me to the library with her, but despite this I didn't read much. At home I'd read comics, and in the library I'd look at the Asterix books. Basically reading was an effort, and I was far too lazy. Perhaps it was the influence of Dr Who and Blake’s 7, but I was about 11 years old when I talked to mum about maybe reading some science fiction. ...

I stumbled upon the following text the other day whilst reading a BBC "Have Your Say" discussion on the topic "What is the best way to teach child literacy?" : Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. The idea was interesting enough that I was curious to track down the alleged research. Trawling the internet, I realised this text has been doing the rounds for years. Eventually my Googling paid dividends (unlike Google shares) and I discovered the concept was derived from a PhD thesis by Graham Rawlinson. I found several examples of scrabbled text which I was able to read without trouble. Curiously it became easier to read the more I accelerated...

During the summer months gazing out of train window often inspired me to write. With the winter darkness upon us there is nothing to be seen but passing street lights and the reflections of fellow passengers. Denied my muse, instead I turn my attention to the plethora of free newspapers to fill my travelling hours. It soon becomes apparent that, in the same way the paper is recycled for the following day's newsprint, so are the actual pieces of news. One morning's article in the Metro will appear practically word for word in the Evening Standard, and both articles will bear an uncanny resemblance to what is written in the online BBC News piece. In all likelihood the same piece of news will be served cold for breakfast the following morning. I guess this highlights the death of traditional investigative journalism which, with more background and exclusive detail, would once have differentiated articles from one another. Like many of my generation I'm used to getting free...

Heads bowed, quiet we stand, Remembering the fallen. White swans fly over.

I have been alive 1.199 billion seconds (and counting.) I recently completed my 38th orbit of the sun, and experienced my 469th full moon. In the time since my birth our planet has racked up 35.7 billion kilometers on the odometer just circling the sun, while the sun has travelled 263.8 billion kilometers on an arc around galactic centre. I haven't been out there with a tape measure to confirm these figures you understand - it's cold out there, and there's no kind of atmosphere. I grew up a bit confused as to exactly how many noughts a billion had. The British billion used to be a thousand times bigger than the American billion. In 1974 the UK officially downsized and our billion shrunk to the US value of a mere 1,000,000,000. It's the story of my generation - decimalisation, metrification, globalisation and depreciation. Imperial parents versus metric kids. We learnt metric in school, and got confused at home. I never did get my head around the old pounds, shil...

I guess that intimations of mortality strike us all at various points in our lives. While growing up we see our future as a blank page rife with possibilities. Will we be singers, actors, artists, sportsmen, explorers? Perhaps more simple futures lie ahead of us? Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, candlestick maker? While at university I suddenly noticed that I was now older than the bright young things achieving fame for their sporting or artistic endeavours. The slamming of doors echoed through my head. Not that I’d had plans in any of those directions, but still it was the moment of recognition that my life would be that of a pond-skater rather than a wave-maker. Impinging on the public eye is one way to leave a lasting impression, but in our private lives we have a myriad of effects on those around us. My imagination is rife with scenarios of raising my kids, showing them the world, giving them insights into the science and mechanics behind it, teaching them to see the complexi...

I stumbled across this video posted on the IKEA Hackers  blog. If you can peel your eyes off the hounds you'll notice the common theme of the props. OK Go  produced this to support the  ASPCA , the American equivalent of our RSPCA :   I'd love to be able to give a dog a home, but while I'm doing the crazy Leeds/London commute I have to bide my time. Meanwhile I walk my dad's dog, and dream about the day I'll eventually be able to call the  Wiccaweys Border Collie Rescue Centre .

I enjoyed learning the French language at school. Despite being handicapped by the typical English reticence against putting on an accent I managed to scrape an A at GCSE (back in the days when GCSEs were more exam oriented than module based.) My main frustration with the French language was all the gender nonsense around nouns, and the masculinisation or feminisation of their verbs depending on the object. When I got to university I heard about a synthetic language, Esperanto, broadly based on romance language structure which was entirely regular and straightforward. Esperanto was created in the 1880’s by Dr. Ludovic Lazarus Zamenhof, who hoped the language would foster harmony between people from different countries. I heartily wish Esperanto was widely taught as a second language. If it were more broadly spoken I would have taken the time to learn it. After all, what help is French when you’re in Spain, Russia or China? Failing that – do you think we can persuade the French to d...

A campaign to build a prototype computer first envisaged by Babbage in 1837 is gathering steam. It is the ultimate steampunk dream - had this machine been built when Babbage designed it we would have had a computer driven Victoria era. I've pledged to donate £10 to the project - if you'd like to see Babbage's computer constructed please pledge your support. BBC Article: Campaign builds to construct Babbage Analytical Engine

How many times have you said "it's getting dark early now isn't it?" The truth is no matter how many circuits of the sun we've completed we're still surprised every year when the days lengthen or shorten. There can be no clearer clue that we evolved in more equatorial latitudes, that and seasonal adjustment disorder (SAD) of course. It is depressing during winter when it is dark both on the way into work and on the way home. A little daylight might be glimpsed during the day through the office windows, and a tad more caught at lunch whilst popping out to grab a sandwich, but this hardly compensates for the feeling that a whole day has gone by unseen. Despite this I always feel a little thrill when I'm out doing some high street shopping as dusk falls in the winter. In Leeds you see the starlings coming into roost on building ledges, and exploding into flight if they're startled. I have a warm nostalgia for the times, as a child, when I accompanied ...